


Fools Who Dream

by rebelscum



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, also bb-8 is a pomeranian, poe is a jazz pianist and finn is an actor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelscum/pseuds/rebelscum
Summary: In which Poe is a struggling jazz musician, Finn is an aspiring actor and neither of them are achieving what they’d hoped to in this godforsaken city.





	Fools Who Dream

**Author's Note:**

> here's the finn/poe la la land au nobody asked for

He’s awoken by the sound of loud bangs on his bedroom door (and quiet yaps to accompany it).

“Fuck off,” Poe groans, burying his head into his pillow and pulling his bedding up further so that he’s completely engulfed by its warmth.

“Get the hell up, Dameron,” Jess yells. “You have a certain Pomeranian out here waiting for her morning walk.” Poe hears another yap in agreement, louder this time.

_So kriffing entitled._

“Go ‘way.”

It’s quiet for a moment, but then Jess comes barging in, BB-8 playfully bouncing at her side. She jumps onto Poe’s bed, and Poe rolls his eyes briefly before using every ounce of energy left in his body to push himself up.

“Seriously, Jess? You couldn’t have walked her this one time? You know I’m bummed out about last night, and tired as fuck. I just want to sleep.”

He’s petting BB-8 lightly as he pulls his duvet up again, ready to hide away from the world once more, but Jess stops him.

“Get your head out of your ass, Poe,” she whines, “you have a small creature here who is relying on you. Be a grown-ass adult for once.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that you’ve been deflecting responsibility lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. We all have.”

Jess sighs, and Poe’s staring at BB-8, trying to avoid her stare. He knows exactly what she’s talking about.

“Poe,” Jess continues, softer this time, “if you think your life is going to improve by watching endless The Office reruns-“

“The Office is a great show,” Poe says indignantly.

“Whatever you say,” Jess smirks, although he knows she agrees with him. “I know you’re upset about the gig, but it just wasn’t meant to be. It’s only upwards from here, my friend. Take Bee-Bee for a walk. You’ll feel better. I promise.”

Poe groans.

“I hate you,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t protest, already making his way to the shower.

“No you don’t,” Jess responds, a glint in her eye.

“No I don’t,” Poe concedes, Jess throwing him his towel. “And we’re getting curry tonight.”

“Consider it done.”

Poe stares at his reflection in the mirror; his curly hair is messy, and there’s a light stubble on his chin and jawline that he doesn’t plan on shaving. He looks exhausted, but despite his crushing headache and his heavy eyelids, Jess’s words are stuck in his mind.

It’s only upwards from here.

One shower and three pancakes later, Poe is out the door with an increasingly crabby BB-8. It’s a beautiful day in Los Angeles; the sun is shining - although no surprise there - and it's a comfortable temperature that doesn’t make Poe want to shed his skin. It’s times like those that he misses NYC. Although part of him has fallen in love with LA, New York will always be his home, and he sometimes wishes he hadn’t had to leave. LA has so much going for it - the weather, the beaches, freakin’ Hollywood - but Poe has always preferred the culture of New York. It’s authentic and values creativity, which is the only thing he has to offer the world. Moving to LA had felt a lot like selling out, however much he tried to deny that he wasn't.

Still, if he wanted to become a successful jazz musician, he had to start somewhere, even if that meant moving to the other side of the country. The truth was that LA was always going to be a much more inhabitable to him than NYC; not only was it cheaper, but the amount of Hollywood-related bars, clubs and venues meant that jazz musicians were in high demand. He’d moved three years ago when he was twenty eight, dragging Jess along with him, and - for the most part - hasn’t looked back. He’d left a lot behind - his family, his college friends, even his boyfriend - but it was the fresh start that he’d needed. Besides from Jess, he’s made new friends, and still keeps in touch with his old ones. He hasn’t been so lucky in the romance department, going on a few dates here and there, with nothing lasting. Despite everything, he tells himself he’s happy in LA, that his career is not going to shit, that he’s not completely fucking alone, and that he will fall in love again one day.

He will.

 

* * *

 

“Finn, hurry up!” Rey’s shrieking, banging on the bathroom door- “You’re going to be late, dummy.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Finn wrings his hands together; they’re sweating slightly, his breathing shaky and uneven.

“Good luck,” Rey leans forward, kissing Finn on the cheek lightly, “I love you. You can do this.”

Finn nods.

“I can do this.”

Finn’s on his way to an audition; one of many that he’s got lined up for the week, so much so that he can hardly remember which role this one is for. He reaches for his script as he makes his way down the street in LA, the beautiful place he’s still shocked to call home. The city is a far cry from the small Portland suburb where he’s lived most of his life; Oregon is much quieter and more peaceful than California, if just as scenic. He wonders what his life would be like if he’d chosen to stay. He’d came to Los Angeles straight after high school where he enrolled in UCLA’s prestigious drama programme. He’d had no fucking clue what he was doing, and yet, he’d been determined to make something of himself.

To say the city isn’t what he’d expected would be an understatement. It isn’t always glamorous; whilst the general population is nice enough, the industry is cut-throat, and the majority of casting directors he meets rip his auditions to shreds. He’s used to it though, and he’s thankful for the thick skin the process has given him, because he knows it will only benefit him in the future.

He grabs a coffee at the coffee shop he works at. Force Espresso, it’s called, which he still maintains is a silly name, but he’s appreciative of the job none the less. He’s been working there since college, because it’s basically his best-friend-turned-roommate Rey’s family business. Her father Luke runs it, with her uncle Han and aunt Leia helping out whenever they can. Sometimes her cousin, Ben - who insists on going by the name Kyle Ron, or some shit - will hang around, not that he does anything useful. He complains about his bandmates, Hux and Phasma, and not a lot else. They go by Starkiller, which just sounds like a silly attempt at glam-rock (even though they claim to be ‘heavy-metal’), and Finn’s pretty sure each of them has made fun of his chosen career path at least three times, which is ironic considering they dress up in all-black and perform Iron Maiden covers for a living.

His chosen career path isn’t a joke, anyway. Maybe acting is a field harder to crack than most, but it’s also an expressive form of art, one that he fell in love with when he was just a kid. He remembers dressing up and putting on plays for his different foster parents, and when he wasn’t performing for them, he was desperate to go and watch performances unfold before him. It’s those memories that keep Finn going. They’re a constant reminder that he needs to prove himself and make his younger self proud. Without that incentive, he would’ve broken a long time ago.

The Griffith Observatory in the distance, Finn turns his attention back to the script. He’s running through his lines aloud - “though this be madness, yet there is method in't” - and suddenly a moving object crashes into him at full force, and there’s hot liquid on his shirt.

 _Fuck._  

“What the…” Finn begins, but he’s interrupted by the sheer panic in the voice of what has now been identified as another man.

He’s also startled by how strikingly beautiful the aforementioned man is. His dark, curly hair is unkempt, yet somehow in the most effortlessly flawless way; his tanned skin reflects the light of the bright Californian sun; his warm amber eyes are wide as they scan Finn’s face, searching for any kind of reaction.

Finn is kriffing screwed.

"Fuck. I’m… Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry, buddy,” the man reaches out, awkwardly patting Finn’s abdomen. Finn blushes; the man clearly has no idea what to do, yet he thinks it’s endearing that he’s so caught up in spilling a bit (a lot) of coffee. Despite that, the man oozes an air of natural confidence and charm, and Finn decides he likes him already.

Finn opens his mouth to speak, but he is again interrupted, this time by a bundle of orange fur, nuzzling into his ankle. He kneels down to stroke it, and finds himself smiling when the puppy gives him a little lick.

“Hey, who’s this little guy?”

“That’s Bee-Bee Ate,” the man replies, still looking a little embarrassed, “she’s a she.”

“Sorry,” Finn grins, “she’s cute.”

 _You’re cute_ , he wants to say.

“Yeah,” the man gives a slight chuckle, his smile soft, “I guess she is pretty cute. Hey, I really am sorry about the coffee.”

“It’s not a problem,” Finn says, standing up again, giving the man a comforting pat on the shoulder, “It could’ve happened to anyone. Really. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“It was my fault,” the other man starts, before something on the ground catches his eye. “…Hey, is that a script?”

Finn bites his lip, looking down at the pavement.

“Wait- were you going somewhere important? Were you going to an audition?” The man is on high alert now, running his hands through is hair, “Kriffing hell, I can’t believe- this day couldn’t get any worse!”

Finn gives a slight laugh at the other man; he’s being incredibly dramatic, and this is coming from a kriffing actor.

“Hey, hey…” Finn says, a hint of amusement in his voice, as he reaches his hands out to hold the man’s shoulders. “It’s fine. Honestly. I’ll be fine.” The truth is that he probably won’t be fine, or at least, his audition won’t be, but the way the man’s smile now lights up his entire face makes losing out on one audition just a little bit worth it.

“Thanks, buddy. I feel bad,” he says, and he’s laughing, and Finn's heart melts right then and there. He realises he's still holding the man’s shoulders, so he drops his hands awkwardly. Suddenly, he doesn’t know what to do with them, so he goes back to stroking BB-8 until he sees that the man is still holding his script.

“Finn, huh?” The man asks after taking a quick glance. Finn gives a slight nod, and the man’s smile only grows. “I like it. It’s nice to meet you, Finn. I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

There’s something about the way Poe says Finn’s name that makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Good to meet you too, Poe,” Finn says, and then, “I’ve really gotta get going. Audition and everything,” he finishes, giving a little sheepish laugh, because he absolutely, one-hundred-percent does not want to leave. He looks at his watch and yep, he’s definitely going to be late, but what the hell. He’s not complaining.

“Of course!” Poe says, his head snapping up and eyes widening, “well, sorry again. Good luck, Finn.”

“Thanks,” Finn grins, and he turns to leave when Poe’s hand is on his arm.

“Take this. I know it’s pretty warm out, but at least it will cover the stain. 

Finn stares at him blankly, before he remembers that probably isn’t the right response and it might be freaking Poe out a little bit. 

“You don’t have to,” Finn stutters.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, and Finn goes to protest again, but his face is so sincere that he doesn’t want to.

Finn puts the jacket on, and is surprised to find that it fits perfectly. He looks back at Poe, who (if he’s not mistaken) seems to be looking him up and down and- _is he checking me out?_

“It suits you,” he says, his gaze seeing into Finn’s very soul, and-

 _Was that a fucking lip bite?_  

“Come on, Bee-bee,” Poe gives BB-8’s lead a gentle tug, “I’ll see you around buddy,” and he’s gone.

  

**Author's Note:**

> yes kriff is 100% a word that exists in this modern au
> 
> also let's just accept that there's no au in which the jacket scene™ doesn't exist


End file.
